


Save Me From Spinning Out

by anoneknewmoose



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Aftercare, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Community: trope_bingo, Gen, Kinky Gen, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoneknewmoose/pseuds/anoneknewmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://ragingrainbow.dreamwidth.org/34883.html">panfandom aftercare fest</a>, prompt <i>Gerard does aftercare with Mikey when his dom hookup doesn't take care of him properly.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Me From Spinning Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalejandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/gifts).



> Love to alpheratz for the cheerleading and quick beta. ♥ Title from Meredith Brooks.

Mikey stumbles on a crack in the sidewalk and goes down hard, grunting as his knees and palms smack the pavement. The cab's tail lights pulse bright red at the stop sign at the corner, then fade as the driver accelerates. All the lights on the street have an aura around them, sickening yellow, that make Mikey's head swim. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut. It's fucking cold outside, and he lets himself count to ten before he tries to move.

The front door is ten yards away, and his bedroom up a flight of stairs after that. _If_ he makes it past his parents.

Gerard, though. The light in the basement is yellow; he's drawing or reading. It's closer, beside the driveway, and it's downstairs. Mikey could do that. Maybe. If he crawls.

The bruises he gets half-falling down the stairs aren't any worse than the ones he's already wearing, anyway.

His head thunks against something hollow and he realizes he's made it downstairs and to the door. He flails an arm up and manages to catch the doorknob enough to twist it. The door swings open, unlocked, never locked, because Gerard never fucking locks the door. How often has Mikey listened to their dad chew Gerard out about the house getting broken into? But Gerard never locks it, thank fuck, and Mikey's crawling forward again, into the warmth.

Mikey sees Gerard's head jerk up from a desk crowded with inked drawings, sees his face draw in all pinched and worried, and Mikey forces his his lips to curve up. "Hey," he says, and even that hurts. He's fucking thirsty.

"Mikey. What the shit?" Hands grab around Mikey's biceps and haul him up. The cold goes away, and Mikey's lying on something soft. Gerard's voice washes over him and his hands are fluttering just outside Mikey's field of vision.

"Gee," Mikey says. He licks his lips. The bed ripples and lurches, then again, and Gerard's picking his head up. He's holding a glass of water to Mikey's mouth. Cool, straight from the sink. They've done this a hundred times for each other. Gerard's fingers slot into just the right spots on Mikey's skull to hold him up without hurting more.

Mikey always forgets how much water helps. It soothes him, makes him feel more human, and when he finishes he sighs and curls into Gerard's body.

"God, Mikes." Gerard's fingers pluck at his jacket and Mikey lets him undress him. They get his shirt off and Gerard hisses. "Mikey, you fucking dumbshit."

"I know," Mikey says, wincing. He knows there are thick welts across his back and ass; he remembers the creation of every single one. They glow in his mind, dull and red and angry.

Gerard caresses the bruised skin with one feather-light finger and Mikey can practically hear him shaking his head. He sighs and says, "Gee."

"Yeah, Mikey." Gerard sighs too, heavier, a shade disappointed. He gets up and comes back with two Tylenol that Mikey swallows dry. "This is going to hurt, Mikes," Gerard says.

Mikey turns his head to wrinkle his nose at him and Gerard snorts. A knot loosens in Mikey's chest; he hasn't fucked up too badly, not irreparably, not yet. He rolls onto his stomach and tucks his face into Gerard's pillow, breathing in slowly the scent of Gerard's hair and cigarettes. The pillow almost muffles his whimpers as Gerard rubs aloe over him, from his back all the way down to his thighs.

He half-dozes off somewhere around his sixth rib. Gerard's fingers splay wide, strong and sure from molding clay, and he doesn't miss even the slightest spot of skin or tender muscle. Plus, he's talking, random crap about school and comics and video games that Mikey's heard a dozen times before and doesn't need to pay attention to to follow.

The massage hurts like a motherfucker, but the aloe and touch and voice are soothing enough that Mikey can zone on it. This is his favorite part of getting beat up; damn mister big bad leather sir for being a douche, anyway.

Thank God Gerard remembers Mikey's high school years.

By the time Gerard gives Mikey's legs a final squeeze at the bottom of his thighs, Mikey's half-hard from the endorphins and skin to skin contact. He groans softly and reaches behind his head for Gerard's hand, holds it tight for a long moment.

Gerard moves slowly, gently placing Mikey's hand down then shifting to sit beside his head and stretch his legs alongside Mikey's body. Mikey sprawls across his lap, resting his cheek on Gerard's thigh. Gerard's blanket settles over his shoulders, then Gerard's hand curls again around Mikey's skull, holding him there while he listens to Gerard light a cigarette and take a deep drag.

"Sleep or Star Wars?" Gerard finally says.

Mikey pauses, as if he actually has to think about it, then says, "Both."

"That's my bro," Gerard says. There's a soft click, then the familiar strains of John Williams' score. Gerard's hand smooths Mikey's hair back from his forehead, and the last thing he consciously does is tuck his fingers into the top of Gerard's hip pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> Also counting this for my Trope Bingo: "AU: Other." Backstory for a longer Gabe/Mikey fic in the works.


End file.
